Run From Him
by Yoshi-Skylark
Summary: [RuHana/HanaRu] A story on how a cycle must continue so that two people will finally end up together. chapter 3 up!
1. 1720

Run From Him  
  
Author: Yoshi  
  
Mail: angelwings@mindless.com  
  
Genre: Yaoi/AU/Romance  
  
Chapter: 1/?  
  
Disclaimers: Slam Dunk is a creation of Takehiko Inoue, and it will never be mine. No profit was made upon doing this fiction for I am merely borrowing the characters for fun.  
  
AN: I took a long break from writing, so please forgive any plot holes or errors you'll encounter. I did this out of fun, so I hope you'll find some too while reading this. Please be informed that I'll constantly use their names for all the time frames to prevent confusion. Also, there are some OOC instances in this fic so hold your breaths.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Don't worry about it...I'll meet you there..."  
  
"Don't you dare go die happy on me, Hanamichi. You hear?"  
  
------  
_  
May 26, 1720  
  
Mom,  
  
Heavens must have favoured our side; it is by luck's grant that I'm able to send this letter to you. For five days, we have been camping out on the wilderness- the grassy earth as our bed and the moonlit skies as our roof. One would probably feel as if peacetime has already dawned.  
  
Peacetime- I can already imagine what it's like back there after this war.  
  
It is by this reason why we cannot yet stop, as peace is still an inch far within our grasps. Soon, when this war is over, I'll come back home with victory in my hands.  
  
Your son,  
Hanamichi  
_  
----  
  
In the night of May, leaves fell from the towering trees and rustled as the wind blew softly. At midnight, the sound of the crickets filled the silence as the moon cast its glow over the soft green expanse that was the ground.   
  
His face, alert or at rest, was solemn. It is indeed a solemn time and a solemn night for a young man who just turned 17 in the heart of the fields. He was part man, part child, yet among those who aspired for the romantic dreams of battles yet to come- among the thirty thousand men lying askew in their uniforms.  
  
"I'm coming home..." The redhead murmured huskily, raising a silver locket with his palms and watching as it caught a glimmer of the moonlight. Kept in the locket was a picture of his mother he held dear the most; his only family to come home to once peace finally shows its face.  
  
He knew he was lying when he told her in the letter that he will come home soon. People die in war, and it is by no surprise if ever he'll not make it before the crack of dawn.  
  
But still, he had to keep on hoping...  
  
A trickle flowed past his cheeks unguarded, startling and forcing him to brush them away furiously. Never did he once shed tears even when he knew what was at stake in this battle- his very own life.  
  
"You're crying," said a voice, bland and unemotional all at the same time.  
  
"I'm not," Hanamichi retorted, tucking the silver locket deep into the confines of his pocket. He then turned to his side, facing the owner of the voice who spoke to him. "And if I am, it's _not_ your business to meddle with, fox." He stared at him directly in the eyes- the deepest of blue meeting the richest of brown.  
  
A stretch of silence.  
  
Kaede merely shrugged, lying on his back as well, while placing his arm beneath his head to serve as leverage and a makeshift pillow. He softly began to close his eyes, feeling himself lulled by the stillness of the night.  
  
The other young man with eyes as blue as the seas, was no older than Hanamichi himself. In fact, the two have known each other in a brief two months before the war started. It is but just a mere twist of fate that brought the two as friends in the middle of a war.  
  
"...Kaede?" Hanamichi asked, testing if his companion is already asleep.  
  
"...Hn,"  
  
"A-Are you ready for the next day?"  
  
"....."  
  
"Stupid question," the redhead muttered to himself as he toyed with the hem of his wool comforter.   
  
"You want to cry some more, go on ahead. I did the same last night." Kaede said with his eyes still closed.  
  
"W-What?" Hanamichi began, his voice raising a few volumes due to anger. "Are you mocking me? 'Cause if you are...," he drawled with a dangerous tinge of his voice, "I'll knock the daylights out of you."  
  
The raven-haired man opened his eyes, and at that instant, their eyes met once again. "It's the truth, idiot."  
  
"Bastard." He grumbled, finally averting his eyes. The redhead briefly wondered the cause why his cheeks heat up at that mere eye contact. The raven-haired boy's stare has this weird ability to pin him, enough to make him feel vulnerable.  
  
A stretch of uncomfortable silence enveloped the two save for the small puffs from their breathing. In that small span of time, Kaede must have taken out a cigar now, for the dark was suddenly filled with the smell of tobacco unlit as yet, but chewed as he thought what next to say.  
  
"I..." Both young men started at the same time. After the awkwardness, Hanamichi took the liberty to say what he had in mind first.  
  
"I was actually thinking of everything ahead. Perhaps both sides will figure out that the other side will just give up, and soon, the war will end in a few days, and all of us will be home." The redhead said the last word with unconscious longing. "Well, things might not be that way. And maybe that's why I cried."  
  
"....."  
  
He was pouring his very own self to the young man in front of him; for some reason, he can't find the reigns of his tongue and the words kept on flowing endlessly. Perhaps it's because unconsciously, he knew that this might be the last time he'll ever experience such moment. He had nothing to lose- the same that goes with Kaede.  
  
Sure, the other boy has the conversational skills that could rival a rock's, but still, a friend is a friend. He could settle for a simple companionship at the least even though the times seemed unlikely to grant it.  
  
"Do you..." Hanamichi continued, twiddling with a blade of grass between his fingers. "...ever regret that you became a soldier?"  
  
"...do you?"  
  
For a brief moment, the redhead considered the question back. "No," he answered truthfully. "Though I can't help but wonder if things would turn out differently if I hadn't. You have a family to return to, right?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're alone?"  
  
A shrug.  
  
"A lover?" he nearly bit his tongue at such question. But somehow, deep inside him, he hoped that the answer is negative.  
  
Silence. It is the kind of silence that warned the redhead to not delve some more.  
  
"I see," Hanamichi breathed softly, almost in a dreamy manner. He then allowed his eyes to close. "As much as this may sound pathetic, I don't have one either. Never been kissed either."  
  
No response.   
  
"Sure it's lonely to be alone, you know."  
  
For a brief instant, something brushed in his lips like the fluttering of a butterfly's wings. Hanamichi opened his eyes, wondering at the warm feeling that suddenly rushed to him. Did he imagine it? Was it some kind of trickery?  
  
He turned to his side, looking at the lying figure beside him. The question was left hanging on his lips as he saw the even breathing of his companion.  
  
_'Did he just...?'_  
  
...Maybe he'll never know. Hanamichi returned back to his position and surrendered to the clutches of sleep.   
  
Beside him, Kaede laid silently, a small flicker of a smile grazing his lips.  
  
------  
  
Hanamichi stumbled towards him through the grassy field, his uniform torn and bloodied. Smoke filled the surroundings, the smell of gunpowder wafting too much in the air. Here he is, standing on the same spot the night before, with victory finally at hand.  
  
The price for his dreams was great, but it was worth it.   
  
_'Now, I can settle things at last...'_  
  
Kaede reached for him just as he had collapsed. He was unable to restrain the horror he felt at seeing Hanamichi's state. There was blood, and far too much of it. He frantically looked around for help, but found none.  
  
Hanamichi's gloveless hand grasped his own, forcing the raven-haired man to look at him. The redhead shook his head slowly.  
  
"Don't worry about it...I'll meet you there..." he drew another ragged breath.  
  
Kaede blinked rapidly, hot tears of denial trickling gently on his cheeks, clouding his vision. It was too late; he kept himself from holding the redhead to him, for he feared that such gesture would bring only pain.  
  
"Please," the raven-haired man head his own voice pleading. "Just...don't die, okay?"  
  
The redhead smiled, before a sent to a coughing fit. More blood spilled from his lips. He sighed, resting himself on his companion's embrace.  
  
"Hanamichi!" he urged, shaking him a bit. "Don't go to sleep!...just... please..." He stared at the calm brown depths of Hanamichi's eyes.  
  
"Don't you dare go and die happy on me, Hanamichi. You hear?" he gritted his teeth, tears of frustration freely flowing on his eyes. "Damn it, just don't die! You promised! You said you'd return home. Please...not when you've come this far."   
  
Silence. It almost felt like his heart stopped beating, and that everything stilled.  
  
And waited.  
  
"I can't just let you leave like this...please. You have to know..."  
  
_'This is it...'_  
  
"I-I love you."  
  
Kaede's eyes grew wide as the redhead drew him near and kissed his softly on the lips- lips that tasted the coppery tinge of blood. And then he looked at Hanamichi's eyes. Such brown orbs spoke to him with unknown volumes till they fluttered and closed for the last time.  
  
And then everything kept silent.  
  
On his hand, the same hand that the redhead grasped before he died, shone the silver locket. More tears bled from his eyes as he read the small inscription on the small case.  
  
_'You're not alone anymore...'_  
  
-----  
AN: At last! I didn't thought it will turn out to be so dramatic... Now, for the next part... 


	2. 1850

Run From Him  
  
Author: Yoshi  
  
Mail: angelwings@mindless.com  
  
Genre: Yaoi/AU/Romance  
  
Chapter: 2/?  
  
Disclaimers: Slam Dunk is a creation of Takehiko Inoue, and it will never be mine. No profit was made upon doing this fiction for I am merely borrowing the characters for fun.  
  
AN: Most people asked why I labeled this a multi-chaptered fic because of the turn of events in chapter 1. Do read on and it's up to you to decide what this is all about.  
  
---------------  
  
_June 1850_  
  
Unusually warm and humid weather assailed the man confined inside the jolting stagecoach. The steady pounding of hooves mingled with the creaking sound of wood and the grinding of metal assaulted the passenger's ears.  
  
Deep bumps in the dusty road prevented all comfort, as if the hard, wooden seat in the stagecoach would allow any. The narrow windows refused to allow any refreshing air that might have soothed the already irritated mind and damp body. Although the journey was supposed to be only 30 miles, it seemed to be very lengthy and monotonous.  
  
"Damn..." he muttered as the coach again rattled on the bumpy road. He brought a hand up, brushing a damp red lock on his forehead.  
  
By this time, the redhead was already counting from ten backwards, vainly trying to control the irresistible urge to bellow on the man holding the reins of the coach.  
  
Hanamichi wasn't sure whatever possessed him to go on to a deserted place like this; perhaps it was a thrill of his to go where the few dared to. Perhaps it is the idea of being miles away from all the chaos that was his life. He had a lot of things ahead of him. He had just finished studying from a top medical school. He's the son and heir of a rich trader. He could've chosen to marry some girl and live a luxurious life.  
  
But there are some things that even money couldn't buy.  
  
Money couldn't buy time. And happiness.  
  
And so, he went out to the 'real' world, with hopes to find himself and happiness as well.  
  
The stage finally stopped in front of the hotel. Too distracted, Hanamichi hardly noticed the changing scenery along his journey or the passage of time. After accepting his bag from the driver, he headed inside.  
  
-------  
  
Gunshots.  
  
He wasn't sure what was happening, but the clamor from the streets below increased in volume. _Surely, such rowdiness didn't occur every night?_ He rolled off the bed and went to the window, casting the soft white curtains aside for a better view.   
  
The wooden sidewalks and dusty street were empty save for some men who appeared to be in hot pursuit of something...  
_**  
"Search the entire place...don't forget the saloon and the inn; I'm sure he didn't get that far." Ordered the burly man who seemed to project an air of authority. Judging by the way he carried himself, he is undoubtedly the town's sheriff.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
**_   
...Or rather, someone.  
  
'Interesting,' he thought to himself as he watched all the events outside. He had often read about outlaws and gunslingers from the newspaper, but never had he felt such closeness to the line of action.  
  
As the commotion began to subside, he headed for his baggage. A few moments later, he took a shiny object out- his colts. The weapon caught a deadly glimmer in the moonlight as he took it out of its holster. After checking that it had enough ammunition, he finally placed it on top of the dresser and retreated back to the warm bed covers.  
  
---------  
  
Hanamichi woke less than two hours later, with a groggy and disoriented start.  
  
For several seconds, he just sat there on the bed, squinting his eyes in the dark. He couldn't exactly point out the reason why he'd woken, what had snapped him from that deep sleep. Part of him just wanted to roll back on the bed and just shrug it off as a bad dream.  
  
But he couldn't. His instincts were ringing alarm into his head right now and he couldn't ignore it.  
  
And at that instant, he knew. He had woken up for a reason; he couldn't explain why, but he was sure of one thing: _he wasn't alone._  
  
A quick glance on the cool, dark room told him otherwise. Everything was still. The windows were closed, the balcony was exactly as he'd left them, and the bathroom door was ajar.  
  
Hanamichi stood quickly, his somehow dazed mind forcing him to lean on the bedpost for support. He then walked gingerly to the bathroom, the lamplight illuminating the dark corners and revealing his groggy-eyed reflection on the mirror.  
  
'I look awful.'   
  
He splashed a good few handfuls of cold water to his face, not bothering to dry it off. For a few minutes he just stood there, watching his reflection in the mirror when a soft scuttling sound came outside.  
  
Glancing around the bathroom one last time, he stepped back into the bedroom closed the door.  
  
The white curtains billowed softly, almost transparent from the huge full moon's ethereal glow bathing the balcony.  
  
Strange. For once, he thought someone was there. He could've sworn that he just saw a figure standing on the balcony doors, skin pale against the moonlight and hair as dark as the night.  
  
'Idiot,' the redhead chastised himself, laughing inwardly at his situation. He was getting too paranoid for his own good.  
  
Anyways, it wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself. If it's any consolation, he's taller by a few good inches from regular men. He could at least fight if the situation called for it.  
  
And he had his colts with him.  
  
Turning away from the window, he glanced towards the dresser where he had placed the weapon before he slept...  
  
...Only to find it gone.  
  
"What the...?" Eyes widened, heartbeat quickened, cold sweat pumped in, and his instinct rang ominously again. His gaze darted around the darkened room, confused as to why it is still empty.  
  
Pacing hurriedly towards the bed, a cold chill ran up to his spine. A rush of thoughts flooded his mind as panic started to creep in him.  
  
He was about to jolt out of the room when a pair of arms snaked from behind. His eyes widened in fear as a hand clamped against his mouth while another held him firmly against the outlaw's chest. He tried to struggle against the grasp, but his feeble attempts were thwarted as soon as the hand holding his mouth pointed something cold in his head.  
  
A gun.  
  
"Be still," ordered a voice behind him. It had a cold quality in it and...something barely unrecognizable.   
  
Just outside, voices could be heard talking again. It was the sheriff and his men.  
_**  
"Did you find him?"  
  
"No sir. We searched the entire area but we couldn't find any trace of his whereabouts..."   
  
"Go to the hospital. He's not a fool to actually ride out in his condition."  
**_   
If before he could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest, now he felt as if it had stopped. He must be really unfortunate to meet his end this soon, as he is sure that the bandit intended to kill him once it had all his belongings.  
  
'If I am going to die now, might as well just die fighting,' Hanamichi desperately thought to himself, as he renewed his struggle against the man behind him.  
  
But before he could complete the task at hand, something hard smashed on the back of his head. His knees swayed, then buckled in response before he crashed unceremoniously on the floor.  
  
--------  
  
Hanamichi was slipping in and out of pain-induced slumber when he sensed someone near him. Added to that was the feeling that he couldn't move.   
  
Fighting past the throbbing pain in his head, he forced his eyes open.  
  
He was still in his room; that fact was odd enough. Truth be told, he actually expected to be left alone the moment he was knocked unconscious. Surely, the man was only after his things and nothing else, right?  
  
Grimacing at the pounding sensation in his head, he struggled a bit to get some leverage to sit up as assess his situation. His arms were tied behind his back, and his feet tied on the bedpost. The knot was tight enough to restrain him, yet not to the extent that he was loosing the feel of it.  
  
His eyes widened as he felt his knot somewhat give in. The man was probably in a hurry tying him up that he didn't notice the binds holding his hands weren't that firm.  
  
"Be still," Again, the voice commanded, startling him. "You'll aggravate your head more."  
  
At that moment, their eyes met: deep blue and warm brown. In mere seconds, silence passed, as Hanamichi studied the man sitting on the chair beside the bed. He was right after all. The man had such pale skin as if the moon kissed it and his hair as dark as the night itself. For an outlaw, he was definitely... pleasant-looking.  
  
To add another puzzle in this predicament, the redhead wondered why his captor didn't even bother to wear a mask.   
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"...Doesn't matter."  
  
"Like hell it does," Hanamichi retorted, somewhat annoyed. "Why didn't you kill me?" he asked bluntly.  
  
He knew he was threading dangerous lines. It was like he was actually provoking the man to kill him.  
  
"Should I?" came the reply with a stiff shrug, this time sounding a bit slurred and weary. Frowning to himself, Hanamichi wondered if the pale man is under the influence of alcohol or something.  
  
"You can take the money if you want,"  
  
"I don't need that." Hanamichi stared directly on the blue depths and was taken aback at the sincerity it projected.  
  
Strange. An outlaw refusing money? Is the world coming to an end? Just what does this man want? Series after series of questions bombarded Hanamichi's mind. He couldn't think of anything else that the raven-haired man could possibly be after. "Then, what is it?"  
  
Silence. It was the type of silence that meant he was thinking of something.  
  
"I need a place to stay for a moment."  
  
Hanamichi was about to question further when he observed something from the man. It appeared as if the man was distracted from something.  
  
He wasn't sure what had compelled him to turn his head, to keenly observe the outlaw beside him. He frowned as his mind processed and made the obvious connections.  
_  
"...Search the entire place...I'm sure he didn't get that far."_  
  
The spacey speech, the stiff movements...  
_  
"Go to the hospital. He's not a fool to actually ride out in his condition."  
_   
...And the crimson wetness splotched in his shoulders. It dawned to him that the man was actually bleeding profusely from his gunshot wounds.  
  
"You're..."  
  
He didn't get to finish the inquiry as the dark-haired man stood up shakily from his seat. "They're gone. I'll leave now..." he struggled towards the door.  
  
It didn't even took him a few steps before he collapsed in an ungraceful heap on the wooden floor, his knees obviously giving up due to intense exhaustion and pain. Soon, he succumbed to the tempting darkness.  
  
Hanamichi watched as the man fell unconscious before him. With a final hard tug on his restraints, he was able to free his hands. He then spent a few seconds untying the complex knots that bound his ankles to the bedpost.  
  
When the last of the ropes had been unwound, he shuffled out of the bed.  
  
Glancing at the man in front of him, he pondered what to do next. The rational side of his mind told him to get out of the room, leave the man bleeding to death, and run to the town sheriff.  
  
However, something tugged deep within him- the part that told him to do otherwise. It was the part he often listened to.  
  
'Oh hell...' Hanamichi thought to himself as he rushed to the injured man, checking for a pulse, unknowingly breathing a sigh of relief when he found it.  
  
He laid the dark-haired man on the bed, before hurriedly retrieving his medical kit. He often brought it with him whenever he traveled, and he was thankful for that foresight.  
  
As he began to strip the man out of his bloodied clothing, he briefly wondered if he chose the right path...  
  
----------------------------  
AN: Damn. I think I bored the hell outta you...oh well. If you have suggestions, please say so and I'll entertain them. 


	3. 1850

Run From Him  
  
Author: Yoshi  
  
Mail: Angelwings@mindless.com  
  
Chapter: 3/?  
  
Genre: Yaoi/AU/Romance  
  
Disclaimers: I do not own SlamDunk for it is Takehiko Inoue's.   
  
-----------------------------------  
  
Most of the night, the raven-haired man varied between his restless tossing to wakefulness. Once, a nightmare tortured him: he could see those flaying hooves descending towards his helpless body, crushing him from time to time again. The scenario seemed vivid enough and the continuous assault never ceasing.  
  
"No!" he winced, cold sweat drenching his body as his mind dragged from the last vestiges of the dream. Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting as the rays of light penetrated the curtained window.  
  
He lay there for a second, wondering where he was, and how did he get in the room. Clenching his teeth, he shifted in the bed, only to be drawn back as knife-sharp pains shot right through him, forcing him to stay immobile and allow the sensation to fade.  
  
Soon, he gave up his futile attempts to move, and just settled with raising his head a little to take in his condition. There was a bandage on his back and front, and he could detect the stitches beneath the front binding. He noticed the faint crimson traces on the front bandage; it was still bleeding a little. His nerves were tight and tense; the stitches agonizing. His weakness was most noticeable, and hindering.  
_  
Tick.  
  
Tack.  
  
Tick.  
  
Tack.  
_   
There was a rhythm somewhere.  
  
"Ah," came a voice to his right, as if relieved that he had woken up. "You're finally awake."  
  
The raven-haired man looked up, instantly alert as he surveyed his vulnerable position. He cursed his luck as pain shook his body anew, but this time tenfold when he tried to move. Remembering now, he realized he was still in the room of the redhead. The same redhead he _assaulted_ just to have some place to stay.  
  
Warm hands made contact with his bare chest in an effort to push him back gently to the bed. For the second time of their meeting, his eyes met with the redhead's. The warm tinge in it pinned him somehow.  
  
"Don't move too much," Hanamichi warned, giving the raven-haired man a stern look that offered no argument. He tucked the blankets firmly like a mother would to her child. "I didn't patch you up just so that you'll end up ripping the stitches, you know."  
  
_Stitch him up?_ The man narrowed his eyes warily to the redhead before him. _Is it by a small twist of a chance that he ended up with someone capable in this situation?_ Glancing at the bloodied shirt that almost clung to Hanamichi's body, he knew that the redhead wasn't lying.  
  
A small part of him wanted to mutter his gratitude, but he squashed that part viciously, knowing that he may have some plans for him. After all, revenge is also a part of human instinct.  
  
He couldn't blame the redhead if that was the case. _If he wanted to get his revenge_. It was his room in the first place, and he had absolutely NO right barging in then assaulting him without a viable explantion.   
  
Fumbling underneath the pristine white sheets, he searched for his weapon fast. He was relieved that he found his gun still tightly placed in its holster.  
  
"I said, don't mo-" the Hanamichi halted in mid-sentence as the man raised a gun, its barrel aimed directly to his chest. He raised his eyebrow at the _'injured'_ man.  
  
Giving his coldest glare, the outlaw pointed the weapon unwaveringly. "What are you doing?" he asked icily.  
  
He is an outlaw after all; he can't trust anyone. _Wouldn't. Shouldn't trust anyone._ If he did so, then he will be exposing himself vulnerable and helpless to his enemies. Life is not a game where people go on and trusting everyone and expect a harmonious relationship.  
  
Hanamichi met his glare equally, unfazed of the obvious threat to his life. Inside, he was slightly fuming for the exhibition of ungratefulness. Stitching him up and watching all night for any signs of infection is not an easy task at all. "So stubborn." He mumbled in an amused manner before reaching out to straighten the blankets some more.  
  
"I'm warning you-"  
  
"Then shoot me." Such audacity seeped deliciously on his lips as he shot the challenge towards the raven-haired man.  
  
Surprise flitted on the outlaw's expression, breaking his cold facade as the redhead grabbed the barrel with deft fingers and pointed it directly to his heart. What even surprised him was the strange look in the redhead's eyes.  
  
_That look..._  
  
In his entire existence, he had seen fear- all forms of it. However, none suited at what he saw in the brown orbs. Not even mock bravery, the easiest one to feign, flicked on Hanamichi's eyes. They looked so..._honest_. Straightforward and undaunted even though he knew he was threading on fine wires.   
  
_Is this man really that trusting?_  
  
Silence flowed throughout the room, neither occupants moving from their position. They held their pose, frozen, showing a dramatic interlude: two men gazing into each other's eyes, the one in bed pointing his weapon to the other's heart. Slowly, for what seemed to be hours yet only minutes, the raven-haired man relented and lowered the weapon down. The Hanamichi then carefully extracted the gun from his grip. "Why?" the outlaw asked, genuinely confused.  
  
That simple inquiry was laden with a few more questions he dared not voice. _Why did he help him? Why help him after he harmed him in the first place? Why did he just brush off the chance to call the sheriff to arrest him?_  
  
He was so accustomed to living alone that relying to someone-- even those who showed the slightest kind of affection to him- as not an option. It is a weakness meant to be exploited- something that he can't go risking about.  
  
"Why?" Hanamichi raised an eyebrow. "Why what?"  
  
"Why are you doing this? Why are you he-helping me?"  
  
For a moment, Hanamichi remained silent, pondering at the question. Indeed, WHY? He could've just called the police to arrest the outlaw who assaulted him. He could've just let the man bleed to death. "Maybe I just want to." He replied honestly.  
  
"Liar." He challenged, not believing what he had just been told.  
  
"If I said because I wanted to kill you myself, will that be okay?" the redhead retorted, losing his patience at his patient's hard-headedness. " Perhaps I wanted to exact my revenge on you for barging in my room and then knocking me out senseless. Happy?" he added sarcastically with a snort. "You're just a regular outlaw to me; I don't see why the sheriff is so worked up just to catch you."  
  
"Why you-" Gritting his teeth, the injured man tried to get some leverage and punch the daylights out of the smug man. He only ended up hissing in pain as Hanamichi prodded him near his shoulders none too gently and settled him back to his position. "Bastard."   
  
"Not more than you." The redhead chuckled amazed at how the man's features crinkled in rage. He briefly wondered just how he would look like _smiling_. "I said you shouldn't be moving around. Just be glad I'm not charging you for my services."  
  
"I'll kill you for this." For some reason, the threat held no conviction at all.   
  
"I'm looking forward to it."  
  
The raven-haired man closed his eyes for several seconds, allowing the dull ache to completely subside.  
  
Hearing a shuffle of clothing, he opened his eyes warily, before they widened visibly. The redheaded oaf was actually changing his clothes in front of him! Of course, he mentally noted, remembering the stained shirt that Hanamichi was wearing.   
  
Part of him wanted to simply brush it off, to think that it's only normal and there's nothing to be embarrassed about since they are both men.   
  
However, his body had different plans as Hanamichi lifted the hem of his stained shirt, revealing inch by inch a well-toned body similar to his, though slightly more tanned. To his horror, he couldn't look away, as if he was being drawn by the simple act.  
  
"Stop staring at me," Hanamichi grumbled furrowing his brow at the blushing man.   
  
Blushing furiously at his train of thoughts and because he was caught staring, the raven-haired man averted his gaze. After a few minutes, he sensed the redhead sitting back on the chair beside the bed.  
  
"Take this," Hanamichi said, pouring a spoonful of painkiller and held it towards him. "It'll ease the pain." He remarked when he saw the hesitant look on the man's face. "Don't tell me that the little outlaw is scared of this?" he taunted.  
  
"Damn you," Giving in, he swallowed the nasty-tasting liquid. As he choked and coughed, he grimaced in pain and twitched. "I'll kill you for this."  
  
"And I say, I'm looking forward to it."  
  
-----------------------------------------------   
  
"Aren't you going to at least tell me your name?" Hanamichi sat on the edge of the bed, checking if the wound is still bleeding.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Okay, so I'll go first. The name's Hanamichi," he offered, hoping that the raven-haired man will open up and say _something_ or even _anything_ about himself. "Tell me what's yours."  
  
Silence.  
  
With a defeated sigh, the redhead began to settle down beside the outlaw. "The chair's too uncomfortable to sleep in," he said, feeling the clutches of sleep beckoning him slowly. "'Besides, this is my bed."   
  
At the continued unresponsiveness of his companion, Hanamichi turned on his side, back towards the raven-haired man. Just before he was about to doze off, he heard something, barely whispered in his back.  
  
"It's Kaede."  
  
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End file.
